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Wednesday, April 28, 2004

The Poems of Sappho
Part I, Chapter 2, Stanza II, III & IV


Then in my bosom my heart wildly flutters,
And, when on thee I gaze never so little,
Bereft am I of all power of utterance,
My tongue is useless.


There rushes at once through my flesh tingling fire,
My eyes are deprived of all power of vision,
My ears hear nothing by sounds of winds roaring,
And all is blackness.


Down courses in streams the sweat of emotion,
A dread trembling overwhelms me, paler than I
Than dried grass in autumn, and in my madness
Dead I seem almost.

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